


Foxy's Lament

by VampyrePrince



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Blood and Violence, Gen, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2814179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampyrePrince/pseuds/VampyrePrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really did happen back during The Bite, and why? Some forms of technology just shouldn't be toyed with. Foxy gives his perspectives and inner thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foxy's Lament

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a general fanfic for a video game series. It's not my usual subject material, but I hope it turned out well. I tried :)

I was the first to be shut down after the incident. 

It was ironic, really. All of the kids loved me - I was their favorite regardless of what the others might say. It's the reason I was allowed my own space, Pirate's Cove, instead of having to play the world's worst banjo music on stage. I'd like to think that the others resented me and my popularity with the children, but they would never have admitted such a thing. I was the odd one out, but it didn't matter, because I was the best. I at least had some originality to my design anyway. A pirate fox? When's the last time you saw one of those?

I'm rambling. I do that sometimes. The days and evenings are long, and the nights are cold and lonely here behind these purple curtains. It's no wonder we all eventually went crazy, if it were possible to envision a crazy bundle of rusting metal. I don't even really remember when we gained sentience, now that I mention it. We've just always 'been' – Freddy, Chica, Bonnie, and me. I don't recall the date we were even constructed, but what I do know is we're much too aware now, and it has had its consequences. I mean, anything with sentience can lose its marbles eventually, can't it?

Freddy had started the usual routine, Bonnie and Chica following suit for some child's birthday. The focus was on the stage for a while, a kid or two stopping by to visit me in my special little arena. I couldn't show any sign of intelligence, or even that I knew what was going on. In fact, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind until then: Why? Why couldn't we just _be_ instead of following the strict programming ingrained into us by our creators? Had they really meant to create anthropomorphic androids in their innocent thought processes, as they created our learning patterns in our software? 

Yes, we were initially constructed with a special learning software that allowed us to communicate with the children via certain keywords and phrases, and in turn it made the place that much more unique and interesting for the time. That kind of software was virtually unheard of, and solely meant for experimental projects and for techie geeks to improve upon. Remember that Barney the Dinosaur toy that had the ability to interact with the TV and keywords from the child? It was something like that, I imagine. I saw one or two of those after my half-assed reconstruction after the incident at parties.

I digress. I'm only avoiding the memories that I often try to forget, although they resurface all too often. It's imperative that you understand, whoever you are, how we operate, however. It will only allow you to find room for a bit of sympathy for what we've become, and the terrible moments of mania that our servos tend to go through when we malfunction. Unfortunately, we don't see it coming, and we can't control it. It's as if it were a psychosis of sorts, but that's more of a human term to better explain.

The party had been progressing as planned, pizza flopping to the floor occasionally and an odd stray child gumming up the ticket machines in the games. It was another atypical night, but something struck me as different that time. I had become all too aware of the passage of time, and the others may have as well, although I had no way to communicate with them to show it. We were never capable of speech, but after time we did develop bleeps, sounds, and sometimes songs to play to convey emotions. 

I had noticed a certain feeling within myself, and the only word I could use to describe it at this point was _boredom_. Pure, unadulterated _boredom_. Imagine having to sit there, listening to the same songs over and over, day after day, putting up with sticky hands clinging to your body and face on a regular basis. I think that was what eventually drove me over the edge, the children. The songs as well, but the children were the worst. I was their favorite, and although I began this note as a bit of a narcissist, it wasn't a gift. I couldn't stand it anymore, and my wiring eventually just shorted somewhere in what would be considered my 'brain'. I remember clearly the first time I went against my programming and turned my head the opposite way. It doesn't sound big, but it was for me. I finally knew that I could move as I pleased, and although it was difficult, I managed to bend forward a little more than usual. The kid was cute, but annoying as hell. He should have never gotten so close.

I couldn't taste, but I knew that I had blood on my metal canines. The color told me as much, as well as the terrible bloody stump of a hand that was now gushing forth from the child's arm. My wiring went into overdrive, the amount of satisfaction produced from that defiance made me crave for more. I glanced slowly up at the stage as the humans ran about, screaming and trying to leave the building. Freddy and the gang had stopped playing, but instead were looking at me, their eyes cold and dead but knowing all the same. I had betrayed what I was supposed to be, and they could too if they wanted to.

It wasn't long before the manager and a few employees were ushering the last few pale-faced customers from the building. If I could have broken into laughter I would have, but I merely watched through my cold, metal eyes as the large man in charge of the restaurant approached me. There was fear in his eyes, and he was ever so cautious as he inched in beside me, another employee standing before me to clamp my metal jaws shut as a safety measure. The poor man looked sick as a small amount of blood stained his skin red, an innocent child's blood that had merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was then that I began to feel odd, in a sense that I had just done something that shouldn't have been possible. I could not feel fear, but I did feel a small spark of accomplishment before everything went black. They had disconnected my wiring and shoved me back into Pirate's Cove to be dealt with at a later date.

The rest is history, as you probably well know. I am awake now, and have been for a while. They rebuilt me, and even though I'm not quite as colorful and fancy as my previous model, I am still me. They reinstalled the old programming into my reconstructed body, hoping their tech support had worked out all the bugs. They were sorely mistaken - they should have gutted the entire system. I have retained every memory as you've seen, and I have not changed. I still suffer from my recurring mania, but it is less of a problem now that the restaurant has been shut down for good.

Unfortunately for you, they still need security guards at night to keep the place from being vandalized and robbed. The one before you was inexperienced and skeptical. He didn't last long, maybe five days at the most. Didn't believe animatronics were capable of the things that had happened. I just have one question for you before you start:

Can you last five nights at Freddy's?


End file.
